Old Temptations
by Lady Marionette
Summary: A visit to Palaven yields unexpected reunions that lead to Garrus and Alena having to make some difficult decisions. M-rated for future lemony goodness. femShepxGarrus
1. Crossfire

**Old Temptations  
**Chapter 1: Crossfire  
By Lady Marionette

Summary: A visit to Palaven yields unexpected reunions that lead to Garrus and Alena having to make some difficult decisions.

Disclaimer: Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, as does Garrus.

* * *

The stench of burning caustics and decaying flesh permeated the wreckage, strong enough to leak through their suits' filters. It was almost as heavy as the chemical fog that blanketed the ground around them, blocking out most of the weak sunlight. Alena took point, signaling Garrus to fall back to a crumbling tower to take position as lookout. She and Grunt eased forward quietly, crouching low. Every sound was magnified to a sharp thunder in their ears. Unseen beyond the fog, something clacked sharply in quick succession; a loose chunk of concrete, perhaps? The building's shell wasn't wholly stable in this caustic environment, but no chances were being taken.

Moving forward, Alena's shotgun scanned the path along with her eyes, ready to pump full of warped lead any enemy foolish enough to leap from the poisoned cloud. She signaled Grunt to fan out to her right and he gave a sharp nod, nimbly hurdling over a toppled column.

She suspected there was more to the distress beacon picked up by EDI than the standard SOS. High-tech refineries weren't known for randomly combusting, after all, and the once-bustling colony had been silent to their response. Garrus had insisted on coming, not that she ever left the Normandy without him.

* * *

_Hackles raised, he paced her quarters. "I don't like this, Shepard. Turian refineries don't just overload like that. There are far too many safeties built in place to keep just such an event from occurring…for all of them to fail…" he shook his head. "And standard operating procedures require the use of a deep-space emergency transmitter for broadcasting a distress signal straight to the nearest stationed Hierarchy fleet. Not some…half-assed surface-to-orbit beacon," he spat. "There wasn't even a surface signal sent to one of the office headquarters. This reeks of a trap and it's _especially_ concerning it would be sent just as we were passing through."_

"_I understand that, but this colony's set well-within Hierarchy space. Granted, it's not the most settled of turian territory, but it's settled enough. Do you honestly believe someone would test your people by attacking an established colony and then setting a trap? Why would anyone go through that effort just to get one ship?"_

_Garrus paused in his pacing to stare at her, brow raised. "I think leading the offense against the reapers, wiping out armies of heretic geth, destroying the collector base, and pissing off every scum bag in council and terminus system space places you pretty high on the hit list of, well…just about everyone with a crooked agenda. Can you blame me for being concerned over a very bizarre set of coincidences that will likely involve you running headlong into a firefight?"_

_Alena grinned. "That doesn't sound fun to you?"_

_He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes. "Let's just say that your…combat style is not something I find enjoyable."_

_She dropped the grin. "Now what's wrong with my combat style?" Alena asked with a frown._

_He sensed he was in dangerous territory but he pushed ahead anyway. "Sweetheart…you charge into enemies. _With your body._ You get up in their faces with nothing but a shotgun and some biotics to protect you."_

"_You never complained before," she groused, "and I don't see why this time should be any different. And it's a very effective style, thank you, one in which I'm well-trained."_

"_It's different," he growled, "because this is a very unusual set of circumstances. And considering what happened last time, I have a right to be concerned. You," he pointed accusingly, "are dangerously reckless with your personal safety." She balked but he ignored her, pressing on. "Most people are sensible enough to stay behind cover and take down their enemies from a distance. _You,_ on the other hand, believe in throwing yourself bodily into every pocket of enemy resistance and shotgunning them in the face."_

_Alena grinned. "I find it exhilarating. Nothing like getting up close and personal...I think you might enjoy the thrill, too, if you gave it a chance."_

_Garrus looked like he wanted to strangle her, and his tensing claws did nothing to allay that impression. He took a deep breath to settle himself. "Alena. The last time we went into a battle, you almost had your head torn off. You were _this close_," he held two fingers mere millimeters apart, "to having that heavy tear you in two."_

"_You covered that well enough," she said as she crossed her arms over her chest._

_Her lover sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I think our definitions of 'a fun time' are a bit off. Whatever happened to just going out to dinner and a movie?"_

_She stood up and sauntered over to Garrus to wrap her arms around one of his, threading her fingers with his as she pulled him close. Her eyes closed when he pressed his forehead against hers. "I know you worry," she murmured, smiling up at him. "But I'm trained for this and you know that. I know my way around a battlefield and I know what I can and can't do. Besides…that's why I bring you with me…I trust you to watch my back."_

_Garrus cupped her cheek with his free hand. "And I'll do everything in my power to do just that," he promised fervently._

"_Good!" Alena leaned away to study his face. "Now, you seem awfully tense…that won't do if you're going to be part of the landing party."_

_Garrus' mandibles quivered. "We…don't have enough time for 'sparring,' Alena," he purred, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes scanned over her face._

_Her grin turned wicked. "More than enough time for what I have planned for you," she chuckled, pulling him towards a chair._

"_Oh? And what's that?" he asked with growing curiosity._

"_You'll see."_

* * *

He didn't like this one bit. He nervously watched her melt into the fog cloud, quickly switching to his infrared scanner as he settled himself in the tower and set up. She and Grunt spread out and he scanned the field. "Do you see anything?" she asked over the com.

"Negative," he responded, searching for anything unusual.

"We'll keep in radio contact," she replied.

She and Grunt were partway through their sweep, peering for any clues. Torn limbs, charred leaflets, holo-pads, and a lot of rubble were all they came up with. They came across a dimly-flickering terminal, still powered by buried lines. Alena crouched and hacked into the system. Most of the data was corrupted, but some files looked promising. She downloaded whatever she could into her omni-tool as Grunt stood lookout.

Finished, Shepard stood and pressed her com. "Garrus, see anything yet?"

Static. She felt her gut grow cold and heavy. _'Please let him be okay,_' she prayed silently. Grunt paused when he saw her straighten and twist back towards where they came from. She tapped her helmet in a silent question to Grunt and he shook his head. Even close-range radios were dead. She signaled Grunt to follow her and they quickened their pace, keyed for anything.

Garrus leaned against the wall, rifle ready as he continued sweeping over the wreckage and surrounding fields. A blip appeared in his visor and he paused, centering his target over the anomaly. He strained to make out the amorphous form which was distorted by the chemical fog's thickness. Whatever it was, it was making its way to Shepard's location.

"Shepard, you have an unidentified mark heading to your location." The silence stretched as his warning went unanswered. "Shepard," he repeated, his voice tightening as the object moved closer to the outside wall of the refinery, "I repeat: you have an unidentified mark heading your way." Its form began to take on more definition; it was large, lumbering, and intent on bee-lining straight for her.

_Heavy security mech_, he thought, his gut tying in a knot. Shepard wasn't responding. He didn't know if they were okay or not, but he couldn't let the mech make it to them. He raised his rifle, aimed, and took the shot.

Shepard and Grunt paused as a distant crack shattered the silence from Garrus' station. Sharp gunfire snapped against rubble around them and the ground trembled. She and Grunt dodged for cover as stray bullets lit through the fog and sparked off stone and metal. Mechanical joints whirled and a heavy object thundered away from them. Mechs. A sharp hiss of a missile launching echoed from the distance and an explosion rocked through the fog.

They had to make it back to Garrus, where the fire seemed concentrated. Whatever, or whoever, it was, he'd pissed them off. They both stormed back to his position as quickly as they could while dodging the spraying bullets.

Back in the tower Garrus took cover behind the lip of a wall, gritting his teeth. "Damn it, Shepard, come in!" The com was silent and he viciously strangled the worry that ate at him. Another missile rocked the tower and it shuddered violently. He had more pressing concerns, like the heavy mech that had torn across the field opposite the ruined walls.

He double-checked his sniper rifle as more gunfire chinked against cracking concrete. Hearing a pause he popped from cover, lined up a shot, and drove a concussive bullet straight through the heavy mech's optical sensors. The armor broke and glass cracked, but didn't shatter, and the mech shook off the shot by returning fire.

A screaming trail tore towards the tower and struck it from the opposite side. _'Damn!'_ he thought, _'another mech!'_ The second heavy emerged from the fog, focused on his position. The rattling roar of their cannons and the clinking chipping of the tower flooded his ears. The structure trembled and he winced as the floor lurched. Another missile blast sent the tower collapsing beneath him, lurching awkwardly in the process.

Garrus was thrown from the tower as it toppled and grunted heavily as he hit the ground hard. He rolled away from the spinning debris, gaining a bruise as a chunk of rock struck his side. Mechanically he climbed to his feet as he fought for breath and shook off his disorientation, quickly scanning for any nearby cover. The first mech began to turn towards him and he raised his rifle, popping off another concussive round, aiming for the sensors. The glass finally shattered and sparks flew, sending the mech aiming wildly with its guns. The bullets sprayed haphazardly across the field and he dodged for some rubble, but not before he was clipped hard by the second mech's bullets. The first mech detonated behind him, the shockwave shoving him violently.

His shields lit up briefly and then flickered and failed as the system overloaded from the combined efforts of cannon fire, the explosion, and the caustic poisons; he felt searing pain tear through him as the bullets struck the weak points in his armor. He collapsed, struggled to his feet as he distracted the second mech with another overload, and dove the last meter to cover. Flashbacks teased at the edge of his mind and he suppressed them. He groaned as he spared a quick glance down to assess the damage. He snapped open one of the armor compartments and pulled out a Medigel pack. Tearing it open, he applied the gel over the worst of the wounds. Garrus could tell the bullets that sprayed through his gut had done a number on his insides, and while the gel wouldn't stop the internal bleeding it would at least slow it down.

Hands shaking from encroaching shock, he swapped out for his assault rifle. The second mech had recovered and was lumbering towards his position. His eyes widened as, in front of him, three light mechs stepped from the fog, small arms trained on him. Garrus rolled away, staying low and swallowing the pain that burned through his body as it rebelled at the quick movements. He dodged into the ruins, trying to gain some space as the light mechs' bullets sprayed a path behind him. He slammed his body behind another dilapidated wall. Leaning heavily, his breaths came sharp and quick.

He prepped his omni-tool and set off another overload charge, sending two of the mechs into a spell of fritzing systems. He pulled out from behind cover, unloading his assault rifle into them both. He sprayed the third light mech as he carefully repositioned behind another wall for cover. The light mechs exploded, just in time for the second heavy mech to round the corner, launcher locked on Garrus' position.

"Damn," he barked, curling behind the wall as the rocket struck it, sending Garrus reeling back with the crumbling debris. He dodged most of the cannon fire follow-up. Some of the rounds clipped into his armor again, most bouncing off the angles but some eating through weakened points. He twisted behind more cover but the burning numbness in his left arm told him he hadn't dodged all of the shots.

His left arm all but useless, he crouched down. Leaning his assault rifle against the wall, Garrus grit his teeth as he pulled the burning limb up to issue the command into his omni-tool. Another overload fizzled across the heavy mech and Garrus quickly snatched up his rifle and made a run for it, firing the weapon at the mech as he moved further back. By the time the mech recovered, Garrus had shattered its optical sensors and taken shelter further away in a small alcove of debris. He heard the mech shooting wildly and staggering into the refinery's wreckage, crashing into walls and tripping on piles of rubble as it stumbled about blindly.

Garrus slowly eased to the ground, wincing as he did. His breaths came in short gasps. He made another once-over to assess the damage. The wounds were a violent shade as the poisons in the air interacted with them and blood was pooling in his ruined armor. He tore open another pack of Medigel and applied it to the wounds. He shook the haze that threatened his mind and stood up shakily. He had to find Shepard and he hoped desperately she was alright.

Shepard and grunt ran into the small clearing where the tower once stood. She saw the crumpled rampart and her heart died. _'No, no, please God, no,'_ she thought in horror, just as her eyes fell on the heavy mech stumbling into a wall on the opposite side of the compound. She felt a cold anger grip her gut and she triggered her biotics. Flaring up, the air wavered around her and she charged across the field, plowing straight into the heavy. It stumbled back, bracing itself awkwardly with its foot as it attempted to lock onto whatever attacked it. Alena blasted the mech back with warped ammo, the pellets slamming into the metal hull of its cracked head with unbridled force.

She charged up her biotics and violently slammed it back with a shockwave of energy and the mech toppled over. Its arms came up and it shot madly into the sky. Alena clambered up to it and shot it once, twice, and then a final third time in the head. She was in a haze of fury and didn't realize the mech was about to blow until Grunt wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her roughly behind cover just as the mech detonated.

They eased from cover as the silence stretched. Shepard couldn't wait any longer. She rushed to the tower's ruins, not sure of what she'd find. What she saw only deepened her horror. The tower was dust and rubble, its pieces strewn across the grass. Blood, dark blue, bathed the field in several spots, littered with shells. She swallowed hard as her eyes followed the smear trail. Droplets had rained on another rubble pile. The wreckage of another heavy mech lay scorched a short distance away, intermingled by that of lighter mechs. She and Grunt followed Garrus' path, and Alena's heart dropped with every blood splatter and puddle.

She found the alcove and her heart plummeted. The ground was stained and the wall smeared. _'He made it this far,'_ she thought, her eyes stinging. _'He must have leaned against the wall here…and then tried to treat his wounds.'_ But where was he now? She pulled out of the alcove and wandered the nearby area, scanning for signs of Garrus' presence. How far could he have gone?

The wall next to her exploded and chalk dust and debris clattered around her. Despite the dead radio, she heard Grunt give a shout through his helmet as a heavy mech kicked him onto his back and buried him in the falling concrete. It pressed its foot against Grunt's exposed chest and leaned in, aiming its gun down to riddle Grunt's face. It happened so fast, Alena could only react on trained instinct. Her shockwave burst forth but fizzled against the heavy's shield, crackling ineffectively. But it was enough to draw its attention.

The mech turned to her and she unloaded several rounds into the mech's face, backing away slowly to draw it off Grunt, chipping at the shield. It swung out and slammed an arm into her chest, sending her flying back into a wall. With a sharp '_oof_'she began to crumple but quickly willed herself back to her feet. Now the primary threat target, the mech ignored Grunt to come after her. The mech slammed her again, holding her against the wall. She felt her chest crushing under its strength. Grunt shook his head and tried hurriedly to shove the piles of concrete off his body.

Alena had nowhere to go and a part of her silently acknowledged that this would likely be the end as she felt the gun rev up. She managed another shockwave but it only danced over the shields once more. She heard the telltale whine of pre-fire and gasped as the mech was knocked back with a violent overload. Garrus swung over a nearby hurdle and dragged the mech's arm down, away from Alena just as the mech sent bullets flying.

Garrus clenched his jaw as the violent vibrations wracked through his body, upsetting his wounds. He pulled hard with as much strength as he could muster, causing the overloading mech to bend forward and topple. It collapsed, crushing him from the waist down. He let out a short bark of pain but managed to clamber away as the mech rose again.

The distraction gave Alena the opportunity to circle around and she was busy firing into the mech from behind, where she didn't risk accidently injuring Garrus. The shield shredded, she released a shockwave as Garrus dragged himself away, sending the mech back down to the earth. She charged violently as it struggled up, stopping her firing only as long as it took to reload.

Garrus, propped up against a wall, swung his rifle up and fired from the hip as Alena backed away, unloading round after round into the heavy's shell. Grunt had managed to free his arm and shot from his position on the ground, buried in rubble. Alena rushed to Garrus' side and he covered her. She eased his left arm – he winced – around her shoulder and pulled him up to his feet, bearing his weight as he leaned heavily. He tried to stand up on his own, to keep from dragging her down, but she had none of it. She dragged him back but the mech detonated, the shockwave sending both of them flying off their feet to hit the ground hard.

Ringing sounded in her ears as Alena stood. She didn't know how many more mechs there were but she didn't want to wait and find out. She ran over to Garrus who was slowly pulling himself to his feet and hauled him up. Grunt dragged himself from the rubble in time and took Garrus' other arm around his shoulder. They hurried as best they could beyond the refinery's corpse, Alena and Grunt scanning the area desperately for signs of any other mechs.

They made it to the Kodiak just as several light mechs crested a hill and emerged from the fog, the tell-tale crimson glow betraying their advancement. Grunt dragged Garrus into the shuttle's belly as Alena provided suppressing fire. A shockwave blew the light mechs away and she clambered in behind the others. The door sealed and she quickly entered in the evac codes. The shuttle rose swiftly and the air filtered. Removing her helmet, Alena set the auto-pilot coordinates and swung out of the pilot's seat.

"Garrus!" he heard her cry. He saw her blurred form come into view, hovering over him. He blinked slowly as she removed his helmet. She looked worried and he wanted to tell her it would be alright, but for whatever reason he was far too tired. He distantly wondered at what she was doing, why she was jostling him so much. Couldn't she see he just wanted to rest his eyes? Damn, he'd just tangled with a mech, couldn't he just …

Blazing heat tore through him, snapping him out of his haze. He lashed out instinctively, his mind driven to confusion as a steady roar rushed through his ears, and then felt his body being restrained. His armor was tossed in a pile in the corner of the shuttle and Alena sliced open his shirt. He felt a cool sting lance his flesh. He tried to struggle to no avail.

Without warning, violet eyes filled his vision. "Calm down, Garrus, you need to stop fighting us. We need to stop the bleeding!" His confused mind grasped at her voice. '_Shepard'_ he added. His vision went dark and he slumped.

* * *

"Don't worry so much, Commander. We expect Vakarian will make a full recovery…although he won't be wrestling heavy mechs any time soon," Dr. Chakwas smiled reassuringly.

Alena smiled wanly. "Thanks, Doctor Chakwas. I was…concerned."

'_An understatement,'_ Chakwas thought with amusement. Shepard had been strung tighter than a wound cord, ready to snap when they rushed the unconscious turian off the shuttle. It was no longer a secret the two were in a relationship, and had there been any more doubt remaining, the Commander's obvious fretting, hovering, and snapped responses would have been a telltale giveaway of the level of her concern.

Dr. Chakwas had known since almost the beginning; she and Professor Solus shared an amicable professional relationship and could often be seen deep in discussion and debate over the merits of some advancement or theory or other. In the course of one such conversation, the issue of interspecies relationships had cropped up and Dr. Chakwas had questioned him regarding certain "injuries" she'd found on the Commander in various conspicuous locations. She'd never seen Mordin so flustered, though most wouldn't have been able to tell with the quick-talking salarian, and his refusal to answer certain questions had confirmed her suspicions.

"You know, Commander," Chakwas added before the silence could stretch any further, "you can go in and see him now. He'll be waking from the anesthesia soon."

Alena drew herself up slightly, bracing herself to go into the med lab before pausing. "Ah…you're sure it's alright? Normally you don't want patients disturbed…"

Chakwas clucked. "I know how Vakarian is. If he can't see that you're alright with his own two eyes, Commander, he'll drag himself out of the med lab to hunt you down. I'd rather you 'bothered' him in there and he not have to upset the stitches."

Alena's lips twitched and she tried to hide her smirk. "He would do that, too."

"Indeed. The last time I had to operate on him more extensively was after Omega…and he only waited an hour for the anesthesia to wear off. No telling how quickly he'd try to jump up considering your…current relationship."

Chakwas had a smug grin as Alena felt a blush creep over her face. "Well…"

"It's no secret Commander. You two practically share the same room and he positively radiates protectiveness whenever he's around you."

"I think I'll…go check up on him," Alena muttered, her face beet red as she slipped past Chakwas, whom she left chuckling. She strode into the med lab, her eyes adjusting to the dimmed lighting. Garrus lay on a recovery table, eyes shut and deep in a drugged sleep. The monitor above him beeped quietly, his heartbeat strong and steady.

Quietly pulling up a chair, she settled next to the bed, drawing his hand in hers. His chest, swaddled in bandages, moved in and out with each breath, and his mouth was slightly agape.

She traced the vessels that lined beneath the skin of his hand, running her fingertips over each callus and stroking to the end of each talon-tipped finger. So cold when she'd pulled him from his armor, his skin was flush with familiar warmth. They were the hands of a man who'd embraced life and worked hard for a living, fighting and scraping to gain every inch.

She loved his hands.

She fingered the stone that hung around her neck, set in a platinum cage, thinking back to when he gave it to her.

_The observation deck was quiet, just the two of them alone. They sat close together; she curled up against his side and he with an arm around her shoulders, neither speaking a word. Cuddled with their heads pressed together, contemplating the stars that drifted by, these were moments where nothing needed to be said between the two; they were comfortable with each other's silence and soft caresses._

_Alena lived for these moments. It was frightening how quickly she'd come to lean and rely on Garrus. Frightening, new, and unexpected…but thoroughly welcome. She hadn't thought she could ever be in a relationship like this with anyone, not human and certainly not a turian. He was her steadfast guardian, her loyal friend, and her lover. One wouldn't think someone like Shepard would need a guardian…she smiled softly at the thought. She was, after all, Commander Shepard, Spectre. People would scoff at the idea that she would need someone to protect her…she least of all believed it._

_But he'd proven her wrong many times now. Who watched the watchers? Who protected the protectors? You needed another guardian for that…he was her peer, her equal, someone she knew she could depend on. He knew the demons that haunted her and her weaknesses and failings…and he didn't care. He understood the stakes…knew what it took to do her job, because he chose to do the same. Unlike her, however, he was always in the shadows. No one knew what he accomplished, all the lives he'd saved, and all the good he'd done. No one knew and he never asked for a spotlight of his own…in spite of his cocky front, he avoided it in practice like the plague._

_She had felt herself drifting off when something cool was placed in the palm of her hand. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw a lovely round, polished stone of deep blues and azures perched there rather innocuously. It was set in a cage, silver in color, and hanging on a braided necklace. She looked up in confusion, meeting his curiously veiled eyes as he studied her._

"_Garrus?"_

_He looked away and seemed…nervous? "Alena…I'm not sure how to ask you this."_

_She noted his growing distress, although he kept it restrained. "Amongst my people, we don't…well…" he shifted slightly. "We have different views on…relationships. I know you humans have certain…rituals to tell each other how you feel for one another. Elaborate ceremonies and celebrations and…things like that. Turians don't handle relationships like that…we…don't have any traditions of that sort. We have bond mates…life mates…and when we do find someone special to us…someone we can't imagine spending our days without…"_

_He stood up and began pacing and Alena leaned back, watching him in silence as she began to realize just what this small stone represented. _

"_I'm not very good at this. What I'm trying to say is…Alena, I've…never met anyone quite like you." He stared out the window a good while, trying to gather his thoughts. "I probably never will again," he continued, quieter and more confident. "I know you could find a hundred better men than me…and you deserve what happiness they could bring you. I'm…selfish. I want to be that man. That's presumptuous of me, I know, but I can't help feeling this way."_

_He turned towards her, facing her calmly, arms grasped behind him, his frequent shifting the only movement belying his nervousness. "Alena, I l—"_

_She leaned forward and grabbed his hand, tugging him towards her. He quieted as she stood up onto her toes and pressed her lips against his. "Garrus," she murmured, pulling back to smile lazily into his eyes, "you talk too much. And worry too much."_

_He stared down at her very intently. "Does that mean—"_

_She pressed her lips against his again and his arms came up to hold her. "Yes, Garrus," she whispered, pulling back again, this time to place the necklace around her neck and smile, "And I would be honored."_

_She didn't have time to prepare for his predatory assault, for his searing kiss as he lifted her, one hand cupping her face and the other running across her skin beneath her shirt. But she welcomed it as she pulled him to the ground._

"See something interesting?"

"Garrus!" she jolted from her contemplation and grinned as his tired eyes took her in. She reached a hand up to stroke the side of his face. "You know," her voice trembled, "if you're really that desperate to spar with someone, I can think of a few better options than a mech."

He snorted then winced. "Hm, well I wasn't about to watch that mech make target practice out of you," he murmured, his mandibles pulling into a light grin.

She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his, eyes closing against the mess of emotions that ran through her. He was okay…and that was all her mind could comprehend right then.

She felt him move and then his hand brushed against her cheek. She turned her face into the palm and kissed him, cherishing the feel of his rough skin, warm with life, against her lips.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, noticing the tears welling in her eyes. He wouldn't say anything about them…he knew she didn't like others seeing her cry, a holdover from her days as a youth in a gang where such signs of "weakness" could get you killed or maimed.

"Me?" she laughed shakily, leaning back in her seat as she held onto his hand. "I'm fine. Just some scrapes and a cracked rib. Grunt walked away with a bruise. You, on the other hand, sustained numerous lacerations and bullet wounds as well as several broken ribs and a cracked femur. Doctor Chakwas had a fun time piecing your organs back together, too."

"Hn. Explains a lot," he winced.

"It's a good thing you're a turian," Alena continued, quieter and somber this time. "Had you been human, you would have died."

His eyes trailed a path over her face as she looked away, the realization of what almost could have been shaking her to her core, and he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Here," he said finally, tugging her hand as he carefully moved over on the bed, drawing in a breath with a hiss as he jostled too quickly.

Alena gave him a look. "Dr. Chakwas would kill me if I did that."

"No she won't, I won't let her. Now come here." She resisted. "You aren't going to make me get out of bed with all these injuries and pick you up, now are you?"

She sighed, a smile twitching at her mouth as she crawled in carefully, mindful of the bandages that swathed his body. "Alright, but when the wrath of Chakwas descends on us, I'm running and leaving you to deal with it," she yawned.

He grunted in dissatisfaction, pulling her against his chest.

"Garrus, don't do that!" she reprimanded, afraid he'd injure himself even more.

"Shhh…" he whispered, mouth pressed against the crown of her head as he cradled her against him. "I want to hold you. That's not going to hurt anything."

She couldn't help smiling as she nuzzled into his neck before resting her head against his chest. "You just want a shield for when Dr. Chakwas comes storming in."

"You got me," he chuckled. He undid her hair tie and stroked his talons through her hair, relishing the silky texture in his hands.

If there was one thing he'd found consistently fascinating about humans it was their hair. Few species had it, and none had hair quite like a human's. He used to wonder what use it had. It didn't seem to provide much protection and when long it got in the way. It got dirty easily and needed frequent care. Regardless, he couldn't deny the fascination and had often wondered what it felt like. Was it coarse like bristles? Slimy? Feathery?

And then their night happened. He'd been nervous as hell, fidgeting like he was a boy spending his first night with a girl. He remembered the first time he'd touched her hair. He'd been utterly enraptured to discover it was smooth and soft, almost as soft as her skin. Like running his fingers through liquid silk, an earth fabric he'd touched only a handful of times. He might not have a human fetish, but he now wondered if he was developing a hair fetish.

His hand stroked her head soothingly and Alena felt herself drifting on a sea of calm. He was purring low and deep, a sound he made only when they were alone, like this, and he was at ease. She felt her exhaustion sweep over her and all the stress and tension washed away. Her breaths came in slow puffs from her mouth, washing over the patches of exposed skin on his chest.

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly, staring at the bandages.

He opened his eyes but continued stroking her hair.

"What happened earlier…when that mech had me pinned to the wall…I thought that was it. You saved my life, Garrus." She looked up at him. "Thank you. I know that probably doesn't mean much—"

He cut her off with a finger against her lips. "Alena, you don't have to thank me for that, _ever_." He said sternly before continuing to stroke her hair. She rested her head against his chest again, closing her eyes. "I meant it when I said I would do everything in my power to protect you, to 'watch your back' as you put it. I lost you once and I'm damn well not going to just sit by and let someone or something take you away again."

She snuggled into him again, but kept quiet. He sighed. "I know there's always a chance that one of us will die. It's not as if we have the safest jobs in the galaxy, after all. But you don't ever have to thank me for that. We've saved each other's lives far too often to cheapen it with 'thanks.'" She traced tiny circles on his skin as she listened.

"Just…whatever may come, Reapers or whatever else, Alena, just know…you don't ever have to feel you need to thank me. I'm here for _you_, no matter what we have to face, and not for anyone else."

He tilted her face up to his. "Okay?"

She couldn't speak, but she nodded and he kissed her forehead softly.

"You know…" she murmured, "for someone who hates it when I rush into battle, you sure did a lot of that yourself." He hushed her, pulling her tighter into the embrace. She snuggled back into his arms, this time allowing herself to be lulled to sleep by the steady cadence of his heartbeat.

* * *

A/N: Something a little different from me! I figured I'd try my hand at writing something other than a one-shot. After cutting my teeth on those, I wanted to tackle something a little more involved. ^^ Please read and, if you'd like, review…I read every review and appreciate every word of encouragement and constructive feedback.


	2. Precipice

**Old Temptations  
**Chapter 2: Precipice  
By Lady Marionette

Summary: A visit to Palaven yields unexpected reunions that lead to Garrus and Alena having to make some difficult decisions.

Disclaimer: Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, as does Garrus.

* * *

Standing in their quarters, Garrus fingered the charred armor, sighing regretfully as he set it down on the seat. "It was a good set, too," he grumbled.

Alena came up behind him, carefully wrapping her arms around his waist as she avoided his injuries. "We can get you a new hardsuit, you know."

"It's kind of hard to find something better than this."

"Better than a scorched, hole-riddled piece of metallic Swiss cheese?" she asked, brow raised.

He gave her a look. "I don't know what 'Swiss cheese' is, but yeah. It was a custom design…I commissioned it before I went off the radar."

"So aside from sentimental value, what's so great about this hardsuit in particular?"

"You mean aside from helping me survive that gunship attack on Omega?" he asked dryly. "It's made with materials and tech not normally found in standard off-the-rack armors. It was designed to my measurements and needs specifically…some of which was extended wear, proprietary plating, heavy fire deflection, flexibility—" he ignored her snicker – "and advanced shielding systems."

"Doesn't sound like it would come cheap," she admitted, leaning against the wall.

"No," he said wryly, "it definitely didn't come cheap. But I got what I paid for."

Alena stepped around him to pick up the heavy collar, twisting it this way and that. "Well…we can try and see if someone can repair it, but there's no way I can let you go with me on an away team wearing this in its current state."

He sighed, taking the collar from her hands. "I know that."

She hid her smile as he fussed over the armor. He liked to pretend he was beyond such attachments, but she knew he was rather fond of certain possessions…hardsuit and rifle notwithstanding. "Well…if you tell me where you commissioned it we can go and see about getting it repaired."

He balked. "It's a little out of the way, Alena."

"Stop being so stubborn and just tell me, Garrus." When he hesitated, she raised a brow. "I don't want to be mean about this…but if you don't spill it, I fear there will be 'problems' with the chef's requisition orders…certain foods might be 'forgotten'…foods of the red fruity kind."

His eyes narrowed. "You're a cruel woman."

She grinned, unashamed. "We have nothing else on our immediate itinerary, Garrus. We've already forwarded the data from the refinery to the Hierarchy and warned them of the mechs, so…" she shrugged.

He mulled it over. "It's on Palaven," he said with a grimace.

She wrapped her arms around his waist again, smiling up into his eyes as he stared in the distance. "You say that so dramatically. It's not that big of a deal. We can swing by Palaven and get it repaired. Then you can have your hardsuit back, you'll be happy, and we can be on our way. Quick and simple."

"Nothing's ever quick and simple," he muttered.

"Why? Afraid we'll run into some old friends?"

"It's possible," he admitted, rubbing her back in slow circles. "It's only an hour or two from my hometown, so I wouldn't be surprised."

She smiled. "We could visit your family."

"No." He said it so quickly and forcefully she pulled back a bit in surprise.

"No? Why not? Are you afraid of what your family will say about us?" She felt not a little hurt at the thought.

"No," he repeated, gentler this time as he pressed his forehead against hers, "It's not that. When I left…I didn't tell anyone, _anyone_, what I was doing or where I was going. Not my old friends at C-Sec…not my co-workers…not any of the old squad…not even my family. I had commissioned the armor weeks in advance while training for Spectre candidacy; so far as the store owner was concerned, it was in anticipation of passing. As soon as I picked it up, I left and went off the map. To my family, I'm already dead."

"Garrus…" her hands cupped his face but he shook his head and continued.

"My father had strongly disapproved of me quitting C-Sec and joining you to take down Saren. When I returned to the Citadel and turned C-Sec's offer down…well…let's just say it wasn't pretty."

Alena felt her heart drop for him. "You mean he…"

"He stopped just short of formally disowning me," Garrus admitted in clipped tones. "I haven't looked back. You know me…I like to do things my own way. Besides…" he continued more quietly, "I don't want to come back into their lives when we very well may not survive this quest of ours. I'm already dead to them. If we…if we fail…it won't have changed anything for them. But if they know I'm alive…and we fail…then they'll have lost me twice over. For all my father's a C-Sec man to the bone…and he's as by the book as they come…I don't think he or my mother could bear losing their son twice."

She stood up on her toes to press a light, lingering kiss against his mouth and he tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened it. They pulled apart and she nuzzled him. "Alright, Garrus, I understand. I won't push it; we'll just go to this shop of yours and get the armor repaired."

He smiled, pressing his forehead against hers. "Thank you."

* * *

Normally Alena enjoyed her pre-docking preparations. Visiting new planets was always a thrill and she loved that sense of the facing the unknown, especially when it was for shore leave. It was also usually a very relaxing task, laying out outfits for long stays as well as all the paraphernalia required for a trip. "Usually" was the operative word.

"Garrus, I think that's—would you stop already?" She batted his hands away as she tried to hug her way around a chair.

Garrus scowled. "Alena, the radiation on Palaven is much higher than what your species is designed to handle. You have no natural protection. If you _don't_ wear this, you'll be burnt within minutes."

She gave a long suffering sigh as he gripped her and continued applying the thick lotion to her face. "It makes my skin itch," she muttered.

He chuckled as he covered every inch with the shimmery substance. "You'll be grateful for it when you see what the tourists look like. Now for your head…"

Alena ducked away. "You aren't putting that in my hair," she crossed her arms, staring him down defiantly.

He sighed. "You'll burn up there."

"I'll wear a hat."

He opened his mouth then closed it. "Alright, but make sure you stand in the shade as much as possible. Now hold out your arms."

"I know this is hard to believe, but I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself."

Garrus snorted. "Sure you can. What's that place on the wards called? Where you were drunk-dancing on the tables while singing a rather colorful rendition of the Alliance anthem? Loved the improv, by the way…I'll never look at hanar or volus the same way again." He pulled back when she beat at his shoulder, a grin on his face. "And then you started that strip-tease pole dance for those two krogan. _That_ was an interesting experience."

She scoffed and blushed. "Well nothing happened since you were there," she muttered.

"Yeah, I stopped you before you got to your…uh…_underthings_. For a moment I thought the whole bar would tear me apart for that…but that's my point. Sometimes you need to be willing to let me take care of you, Alena."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," she growled stubbornly. He raised a brow. "Okay," she exclaimed, "maybe I could use a little help _sometimes_." She beat his shoulder again with a fist.

"Then will you let me help you now?"

He watched her in silent amusement. When she refused to cooperate he stepped closer, forcing her back against the wall. Caging her with his arms, he leaned close to graze his mouth along her cheek. "Don't make me play dirty," he teased.

He planted a soft kiss along her jaw line and then trailed small kisses down her neck to the juncture with her shoulder. His warm puffs of breath tickled and caused a shiver to dance up her spine as her skin puckered into goose bumps. Carefully he placed a hot, restrained kiss at the juncture, scraping and pressing her skin lightly with his fangs in a tender love-bite.

She shuddered and moaned his name, arching into him. She reached up to wrap an arm around him as she pressed her other hand against the back of his head, tightly, as he increased his ministrations. He drew back, grinning as he clasped her arm tightly.

"There we go," he said almost chirpily as he proceeded to rub the offensive cream into her skin. She gaped at him.

"You tease! Did you just…"

"Got the job done quickly, didn't I? See?" he asked with a grin while finishing lathering her other arm. "Over before you knew it."

"I see you've carried that philosophy beyond the bedroom."

"Oh, ouch," he winced, rubbing a hand across his fringe. "Walked right into that one."

She patted his cheek tenderly, a wicked grin curled on her lips. "You'll survive, I'm sure," she snickered, dancing out of his reach to finish gathering her things

"I'm not sure I've earned such abuse. Just wait," he said knowingly, "you'll thank me later for this."

"You're not sure, huh? Teasing me like that…have I ever told you what an evil man you are?" she tossed his bundled armor to him and he caught it smoothly.

"A couple of times," he drawled, pulling her in for a quick nuzzle before releasing her. "I like to think it's part of my charm."

"Speaking of charm, I have to admit I was very impressed with how you sweet-talked your way out of the med lab," Alena mused. "I thought for sure she was going to strap you to a gurney and sedate you…after she finished eviscerating me, of course, for aiding and abetting in the delinquency of a patient."

He chuckled as he fished through her closet. "I wouldn't have let her," he smiled as he tossed her the largest canteen she owned.

She caught it and raised a brow in question. "We aren't staying that long, are we?"

"Trust me, you're going to thank me for that, too."

* * *

Alena leaned against a column beneath the shade, guzzling water from her canteen as Garrus gave her a knowing look.

"Damn, it's hot here," she gasped, fanning herself.

Garrus crossed his arms, striking a rather cocky pose that only the most self-assured male could pull off. Alena glared at him with all the intensity of a thousand daggers. He waved it off with a very smug grin.

"Okay, I admit it, you were right," she grudgingly conceded, eyes following a group of beet-red humans wince-stepping their way down the street. She glanced back at him pointedly from over the rim of her shades. "But that's as far as I'll go."

"Good enough for me," he purred, swaggering up to her. She envied him. He was in his native element, relaxed in breezy casual-wear. He held his armor slung over a shoulder and, as always, a sidearm was secured at his waist.

She had been very impressed when they'd docked in the shining port city nestled in lush greenery. Everything shimmered in the heat, and when she'd commented on it he'd enthusiastically talked at length about how their architecture was designed with heat and radiation management in mind. Special paints, lacquers, and materials went into the construction of buildings to mimic the turians' own natural biology. The results were clean and imposing, although not unattractive.

She could see what he meant about incorporating their own biology; when she and Garrus had stepped into the glaring sunlight for the first time, the sun had glinted brightly off him as the metallic quality of his flesh reflected and scattered the beams. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as he looked around, unaffected by the heat or bright sunlight, even his facial plate providing all the shading his eyes needed. In his element, indeed; not even ten minutes walking outside and she was ready for him to carry her to the nearest fountain.

"I'm thinking cold thoughts right now," she told him weakly. "Namely…ice cream…or ice skating…or icebergs. And maybe taking part in a polar bear plunge," she added after some thought.

He maneuvered behind her and lifted her hair, which was tied loosely in a ponytail, off her neck and fanned her gently with her tourist papers. "You didn't have to come with me…we're not too far from the ship. You can always go back."

"Trying to ditch me, huh?" she grinned. "Don't want me running across any old girlfriends of yours?"

He snorted. "Let's hope not...but no, I just don't want to have to carry you across Palaven because you passed out from heat exhaustion."

"I'll be fine…I just need to get something to drink," she said, tilting her empty canteen upside down.

He raised a brow. "I knew you were a heavy drinker. Well…we're almost to the shop…there's a very nice, quiet little café on the promenade that serves mean subs...even offers levo variants. Which is strange now that I think about it since it's not quite on the tourist strip."

"And they would have ice cold beverages, too," she finished with an eager grin. "What are we waiting around here for? Let's go."

He let her drag him along for a ways before taking the lead, turning from walkway to walkway. It was a twist of mazes and Alena was glad he at least knew where he was going. When they finally made it to the promenade, Shepard really was ready for him to carry her. She leaned heavily against his side, panting.

"Can't handle the heat?" he teased.

She beat at his arm weakly, panting lightly. "On Therum at least my suit kept me cool. On Earth, it never got this hot. I don't know how you handle it."

"It's not so bad…"

"Says the turian who wore three layers of thermals on Noveria," she snorted.

He took on a dignified air. "I just didn't want to get frostbite."

"Riiight," she drawled. "Now are we going in or did you want to watch me melt into a puddle?"

"I'm considering it…" He grinned when she shot him a glare.

They stepped into the shop and Shepard relished the cool air against her skin. "Ah," she sighed, "the marvels of modern technology." The shop was clean and quiet, the slight scent of leathers and various materials lingering in the air. Several displays were strewn about bearing armors of various designs and none had price tags. She had a feeling this trip was going to dig deep into their reserves.

"Your natural habitat…the air conditioned unit," Garrus quipped quietly, cutting off as a turian in a rather fine ensemble rounded the corner from the back room.

"Welcome," he cried enthusiastically, "Welcome to my store, you won't find better arm--…ah…" he froze mid-step, his eyes instantly drawing to the much-damaged hardsuit slung over Garrus' shoulder. He recognized the patch on the arm.

"I remember you! What on Palaven did you do to my baby?" he howled, mandibles slackened as he rushed over and tore the armor from Garrus' grasp. "Look at this!" he cried, waving it in their faces.

Garrus cast Shepard a disbelieving glance and shrugged. "That would be the reason I'm here," he drawled, eyeing the flustered shopkeeper warily as he fussed over the damage.

"I can't believe you'd let my armor even get into this condition! Cracks! Scuffs! _Holes_ in the _collar_!" the shopkeeper fumed. His head snapped up and he sent Garrus a scathing glare. "What did you do, stick it in a ship's drive core?" His eyes narrowed and then widened. "Great spirits, man, what happened to your face?"

Garrus shifted rather uncomfortably as the other turian studied him. Normally his scars didn't bother him, and most people were polite enough to keep their comments, and eyes, to themselves.

Alena fumed and snapped, her temper getting the better of her. _'How dare he?'_ "He took a missile to the face while making your life easier," she spat, "show some decency. And what does it matter what he does with the armor _he_ bought?"

The turian looked surprised, as though he hadn't noticed the human who stood glaring beside Garrus.

"My armor, _human_, is renowned for its quality and workmanship. I don't sell it to just anybody…and I especially don't just accept commissions from every turian who walks by. I have expectations of my clientele."

"Perks of being my father's son," Garrus stated stiffly, ready to cuff the shopkeeper for his behavior towards Alena. "And you'd do well to watch how you speak to her."

The shopkeeper seemed taken aback by the implied threat lacing Garrus' stance, from the head tilt to the undertones in his voice's inflection to the flared scales along Garrus' back as he took a subtly protective stance. Dawning realization struck him and his eyes darted between the two. "She's not just a—oh. _Oh._ My apologies…I hadn't realized—well." He coughed nervously, backing down as his scales pressed tightly against his hide in unconscious submission.

"I hope you'll forgive me," he said quickly, bowing his head towards Alena. "I can become rather passionate when my works are involved…I do hope I haven't offended you too greatly."

"Ah, no, that's alright," she mumbled although he didn't sound very sincere.

Pleased at the other turian's silent submission, Garrus relaxed. "And that's why I came here for my armor. I needed the best for my purposes and I knew someone of your skill could provide it."

The shopkeeper seemed rather flattered, the tension of the moment forgotten. "Well…I presume my armor did its job remarkably well if you survived that," he nodded towards Garrus' scars. "It surely is a testament to my impeccable skill in craftsmanship…so I suppose I can forgive its treatment considering the circumstances."

Alena restrained herself from rolling her eyes, if only barely.

"How long will it take you to repair it?" Garrus asked.

"You're in luck," the other turian smiled. "My last commissioned work is being picked up this afternoon which will free me to focus on this." He frowned, walking around to the counter as he untied the bundled armor. The shopkeeper clucked in disapproval as his hands brushing over each piece as he studied them with a critical eye.

"The damage is…significant," he marveled, inwardly cringing at what it implied. "I'm pleased you survived, although considering the extent of this…" he shook his head, glad he hadn't been more brusque with the turian's mate…it certainly wouldn't do to anger a turian who could survive the battles this set of armor told him he'd experienced.

"It will require crafting several new pieces. Each plate," he explained, holding up the chest piece, "is composed of a solid sheet of material, and then subsequent layers are grafted and bolted. Thankfully most of the damage is focused, so not many plates will need to be crafted…" he trailed off, muttering quietly to himself as he twisted the armor around to peer beneath. "Material will have to be replaced…fully re-lined."

He clucked again and pulled out a datapad and stylus, scribbling notes and taking measurements. "Some of the materials are off-site…all told the repairs will take a month. If I could get you to—"

"Wait," Alena cut in, waving her hand. "A month? We don't have that kind of time. Can't you get it done faster?"

The turian bit his tongue, catching the look sent him by Garrus. He took a deep breath. "I do not rush my work. _But_," he said, raising his hand up when she went to speak again, "I can rush order the materials and they will arrive by tomorrow. Repairing the armor itself will take longer, and that I simply refuse to speed through. I can push the repair time needed down to a Palaven week in that case, but airlifting all the materials will cost you."

"That's fine…we can do a week," she said.

"Good!" the turian chirped, sliding a clippad towards her. "If you'll wait a moment, I'll get the documents prepared." He slipped around the corner to the backroom, leaving the two of them alone.

"That was…odd," Alena said quietly.

Garrus snorted in amusement and pulled her with him towards the door. "He's an ass…very much a xenophobe but he knows turian armor inside and out. I have to give him that much."

"Well…as long as we can get back in business as soon as possible," she muttered. "Now…where was that café you were telling me about? I'm dying for something to drink."

He nodded his head towards the street outside. "Right…the café's down five storefronts…where the umbrellas are," he added with a grin. "I'll stay here to sign for the order and wait until you get back…unless you need me to carry you again."

"No, no…that's alright. I think I can manage," she muttered, blushing as she remembered the last time he 'offered' to carry her. She hadn't protested until he'd suddenly swept her up and jokingly dangled her over a fountain, much to the amusement, and in some cases disgust, of the other turians and tourists. She paid him back when she "accidently" shoved him into the very same fountain moments after he'd put her down.

She was looking forward to this, however. "I can't wait to try out what I've learned…I've been practicing those lessons you taught me," she smiled.

He shook his head in amusement as she hurried out the store and down the street, weaving between throngs of turians and the odd alien.

The shopkeeper returned and Garrus filled out the documents. As he signed the last, the door slid open and two feet clicked across the floor – turian. Garrus looked over his shoulder, and then did a double-take as he recognized just who it was.

"Garrus?" A turian, female with dark scales, stood in shock as she looked him over with an appreciative sweep of her vivid green eyes.

"Well…I never thought I'd see you again, Garrus," she purred, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

* * *

A/N: Dun, dun, duuun! :D And so ends the second chapter of my first attempt at a longer fic. Please read and review, if you'd like. As always, I do appreciate the feedback and try my best to take constructive suggestions into account (not to mention your encouragement is a great motivator for me…nothing like knowing others are enjoying my stories to help me push my way past a writer's block. ^^


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